


Strong in Surrender

by Aviss



Category: Bleach
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-17
Updated: 2010-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-07 08:28:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orihime knows she should be feeling guilty, but she isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strong in Surrender

**   
**

Orihime knows she should be feeling guilty, but she isn’t.

All those feelings and regrets belong to the old her, the Inoue Orihime who was unable to protect anyone, especially herself. The Inoue Orihime who waited in a tower for a rescue and a love that wasn't going to come.

What came was different, and it made her different too.

She’s strong now--strong like she's never been before because now she has something to protect. Not in terms of fighting and killing things, that's what other people do. She protects what's hers with her voice and her heart.

And besides, she doesn't need to fight. She has them for that now, her two unlikely champions.

One is quiet and loyal, the silent jailor. The other is loud and disrespectful, the proud warrior. Their touch is different and so is their attitude, but they provoke the same reaction within her, the same need and hunger.

She knows her friends would be shocked if they could see her now, wanton and open under twin mouths and stroking hands, lips parted in a silent scream, back arched trying to get more of them.

She's addicted to it now, to the point where she can't remember a time she didn't want this, didn't have it.

The only thing she likes more than their hands on her is seeing their hands on one another. Light and darkness, the hottest combination she's ever seen; their roughness together a stark contrast of their worship of her body. She loves to see the play of muscles in their fights for dominance, the heated battles of their kisses.

It makes something inside her ache with desire.

"Ulquiorra," she whispers, a demand. And he obliges, teeth nipping at her throat, fingers seeking inside her. "Grimmjow," she moans, a plea. It elicits a chuckle from him and a bite on the nape of her neck, a shudder running down her spine.

She clings to them with a desperation she didn't know she felt, a passion she thought all but spent in dreams and longings of another, filling them and being filled by them, body convulsing in pleasure and pain.

She can feel them moving, fast and hard at her back, slow and deliberate at her front; their hands holding her, anchoring her to the here and now. There is nowhere else--no one else--she'd rather be.

She knows she should be horrified by what she's become but she isn't, she won't.

The rest of the world can be on her behalf.

…


End file.
